I own and rock people’s faces off teaching ballroom dancing at Dancers Studio in St. Paul, MN. My husband and I compete professionally in American style and wrangle eight children in our spare time. I’ve been teaching and competing in ballroom dancing for over 25 years and have lots of opinions on it. I am an expert by any means, but there are quite a few dancers who are better than me and I have a solid knowledge of basic technique, so suck it.
I'm sure running a marathon should be easier than giving birth, so in my ever-hungry, anandamide-high week after the "run", I tried to come up with ideas to make the next one better.
bring it, next race
Yes, the next one. I went to demolish this year's time in an epic fight to the death.
So, here's what I'd do…
train. Fucking train. Sorry. But seriously. If I could finish by not reeeeally training, let's get real and bang out some 17+ mile runs here. Dear Lord.
peeps. I'd have a lot more of "my people" out on the course. Or, if not more, at least have those fabulous friends spread out more often along the way. And maybe I'd NOT like to know where they are. That way, I'd have to keep going strong the whole time. 'Cause I don't want you to see me with my "tongue hanging on the ground" (my folks requested that they see me before that point, I think I acquiesed).
who's got two thumbs and isn't walking [right now]?
gels. I also scoffed at gels. It could have been that I'd been running for 17 miles or it could be that THEY WERE THE MOST DELICIOUS FOOD OF ALL TIME. As I approached the 17th mile marker, there were volunteers who were calling out "Vanilla!" "Strawberry!" and when I heard "Chocolate!", I veered for that voice. I don't know if they did anything, but I do like the idea of fudge in my pants… Bad choice of words. #runningjoke
the route. The course was beautiful, I think. There was a "turn by turn" video at the expo (the big mall/race number pick-up/party before the run), but I skipped that, because duh, I was running it the next day. But after my fail with The Bridge (it's not the Ford Bridge? wait, it's not the Lake Street Bridge?!), I think maybe I'll take a looksee for the next one.
I'd love an excuse to go to Vancouver (maybe this one will be a full marathon this year?), but the Twin Cities Marathon is really one of the highest rated races in the state. Plus, #1 will be slightly less possible if I'm in Canada. The handy MarathonGuide.com is helping choose wisely. [Does anyone else read that as "marathong uide"? Hilarious.]
Ta-da! It's a short list. But come on. I'm not an idiot. Often.
Q!
The pictures of me running were taken by my good friend, the amateur photographer/Microsoft nerd/PROFESSIONAL BODYBUILDER, Scotty the Body. He's too hotty.
Let me tell you, I pictured my marathon experience differently. When I read about people walking during marathons, I scoffed. "Obviously, they weren't training," I would say, with my nose in the air. I imagined my training program would go completely according to plan and I would breeze through the finish area a respectable 4 hours or so from my start time.
WHAT WAS I THINKING?!
Seriously, people. It's 26.2 miles. Twenty- six point two MILES. That's like me running from my house to my old college campus in River Falls, Wisconsin. Or the Greek soldier running from the Battle of Marathon to Athens, duh. It's far.
The training runs took place in the middle of summer… when it's hot.
I also have a few other responsibilities besides trying to roll my ass out of bed to go on a three hour run.
So, the training didn't go as well as I wanted to. Somewhere around July, I thought I pulled my hamstring. Since it's a rather important muscle, I decided to rest for a week. And then rest for another week.
Resting is a slippery slope. It turns into laziness reeeeeeal fast.
We also started traveling a lot right when I should have been getting back into it. Those long run I scheduled for the weekends? Not so much.
Nonetheless, I showed up to the start line that sunny (and chilly!) Sunday morning and jumped around with the other lads and lassies in the 3rd corral. There was a horrible rendition of The Star Spangled Banner, which made me think ,"If they let him sing that, surely they'll let me finish this race."
yeeeaahh
The starting gun went off, people cheered, runners ran, spirits were high.
Cruising through strips of sun pouring in between the Minneapolis buildings was a bright beginning to the frosty morning. Chugging by the Basilica, bells a ringin', with Minneapolis' firemen and police cheering on their teams, was inspiration enough to climb the hill to Uptown and continue on towards the lakes.
Most neighborhoods were packed with lovely groups of people looking for the excuse to party. Little kids giving high-fives lined the curbs while "Gangnam Style" blared from portable speakers every 3 miles or so. I did not break out my moves, as I had threatened.
Besides generally feeling taunted by folks hugging their mugs of coffee (or stronger beverages), the crowds were motivational. Who wants to stop running when people are watching?
fans!
I knew my parents were going to be at mile 7 and 16; the G and the ladies would around every 6 miles or so; a bunch of my friends would be at mile 25. After the first 10 miles (which were golden and delicious), these people were the only reason I kept going. I'm not sure it was The Wall, but it was definitely A Curb.
In the midst of mile 14, I turned to the guy next to me and said, "We can do this, right?"
"Actually, I'm dropping out at mile 15."
"Well, shit."
That's how I met a nice guy from Mexico City, who was on his 47th marathon. He gave me some advice and ran with me, cajoling me into a trot to keep up with his "8 minute run, 2 minute walk" routine. He continued well into mile 17, where I lost him as I stopped to refuel with The G. That guy was an angel.
After I saw my folks the second time, I felt like I was just killing time until the end. The last decent pace group had passed me and I was meandering the streets of the Twin Cities. Lame!
BUT THEN, there was The Bridge. The delightful, beautiful Franklin Avenue Bridge. The final hurdle, in my mind.
Hitting Summit Avenue, where the boulevard was lined 3 to 4 deep with cheering people? CRYING. Like literal tears rolling down my cheeks. OH THE HUMANITY, in a good way. Then I saw my little ladies, and The G, bouncing up and down (well, Mae Cake was eating and not impressed) about three blocks later? TOO MUCH. *sob sob*
When I finally reached mile 25, my steadfast friends were waiting impatiently and threatened me to "get moving, our movie's in an hour!" which was surprisingly rousing. I mean, I really wanted to see that movie!
Crossing the finish line was a relief. Done! Here's a medal; go eat something.
not walking
A couple weeks later, I still think it's worse than giving birth. Yes, running a marathon is harder than having a baby. Ladies, there are drugs available for childbirth. And like, nurses and doctors and beds involved. But a marathon? You're going to feel that, the whole time.
road trip to Virginia for a wedding (thanks, Wyatt and Margaret!)
road trip back to Minnesota for… living (thanks, St. Paul, for continuing to exist while we were gone!)
– ran that damn marathon. More on that later this week.
– road trip to Chicago for Harvest Moon Ball Championships (Moon Ball?) with no children (thanks, Godfamily!) and two friends. Kept wanting to throw Goldfish crackers and My Little Ponies into the backseat on the drive there to placate passengers, but the absence of whining made me stop. Note to friends: whining gets you treats AND toys. (I probably just shot myself in the foot by letting them know that.)
Priceless waitress: What's wrong with him? Is he yours?
I want this cooler in my house. Next to my bed. Note: it is stocked with Nutella snack-packs (cracker sticks included for convenient dippage), string cheese, green smoothie things, hummus and pita chips (packaged together for your munching pleasure), applesauce, 2-glass box o' wine, beer, fresh cut fruit, and salads. WHAT ELSE WOULD I EVER NEED? Milk. It's missing milk.
I want to go to there.
I want to hate Old Navy, but I can't. Because these shoes exist within their walls. But not in my size. SOMEONE FIND THESE IN A SIZE 9 FOR ME!
MINT PATENT POINTY FLAT SHOES
– congrats to Peter and Yulia on a great event (the Moon Ball, as I will now call it). They've really turned that competition around in the last two years. It's at a lovely hotel (a bit phallic in the decorating, but lovely nonetheless) and they have great perks for competitors and judges and spectators (great prize money! bottles of vodka! great show!). Plus, their daughter is adorable and Yulia is a ridiculously attractive pregnant lady.
– worship the can-opener or whatever for a long-time ballroomer and a dear man, Dr. Dave, who collapsed during one of his heats at the Moon Ball. Speedy and full recovery is wished whole-heartedly for you, Dr. Dave.
What have you guys been up to this month? How's the Indian Summer treating you?
I often think ballroom dancers are a bit masochistic:
the learning never stops. Think you got something correct? Then you're told to do it more correctly or to somehow make it harder.
the actual cost of lessons/events/competitions is… real. Like, "this invoice just got real". Ramen for the next month or two to do that awesome competition? O-kay.
the performances and competitions are not stress-free. Challenging, yes; fun, in hindsight, yes. Easy? No. Stress-less? NO.
Let's talk about that.
Everyone reacts to stress differently; you can check out the on-deck area in any dancesport competition to get a cross-section of the personalities.
The Jokester– deftly deflects any negative energy into chatty, silly antics. The Jokester will suck you into after-party demeanor with his chillaxin' attitude. Most often a dude. HATE HIM.
The Warrior- dons his headphones and does push-ups aggressively in the competitor warm-up zone. Practices his moves with no regard for others' safety and will give the eye if you get in his way. Most often a Latin dancer or Russian.
The Carpet Couple- dances all out in the practice area… where no one cares. Impressing fellow competitors? Not necessary. Most often newer competitors and most often don't make it past the front round.
The Monk- discovers her inner peace while stretching, eyes closed, practicing choreography with her mind. Most often a chick wearing a silk robe.
The Porcupine- displays a prickly disposition while wandering the backstage area. Whether practicing or standing still, the message is clear: BTFO. Most often a target for The Jokester.
The Flitter– darts from the water station to the on-deck captain to the corner of the dance floor to someone she knows to sit down, often talking quickly or laughing a little too loudly. Most often a person of small stature.
Me? I'm a Porcupine. I don't want anyone nearby me. Including, unfortunately, my partner. I want an arm's length, if possible, between me and you, and just shutthehellupI'm breathing over here. I'm not watching the floor, but I am zoning out while staring in that direction, yawning every now and then. I have to pee and probably want to throw up a little.
But then I walk on the floor and it feels like home and all that crap goes away.
Which one are you? What are your nervous habits? Do you know what they are? Do you know how to combat or work with them? Let's get therapy up in here.
One year ago: To Be Or Not To Be, OMG READ THIS. A) Inspiration B) I did all my goals for last year, yo! C) There's a great picture!
This morning, it was OMGTHEREISTOOMUCHPACKAGINGINTHEWORLD and I'MBEINGCONSUMEDBYMYCONSUMERISM, as I drank my Starbucks coffee out of a Starbucks cup (with the sleeve!) while eating a muffin out of its paper liner which came in a plastic container.
*sigh*
So, then I started thinking…
Could I go waste-free? Like no trash? And for how long?
Speaking of my breakfast alone, there's the coffee*:
+ okay, duh. I could have brought my own mug.
+ I could have made it at home, in my own mug.
– If I put cream in there, it has to come from a package, right?
– Homemade coffee still has to come in a bag, also, or is there some magical place where you can do coffee like bulk food stores? Dear God, IS THERE A HUGE BIN OF COFFEE SOMEWHERE THAT I COULD HAVE ACCESS TO?*
Then there's the pumpkin muffin:
+ The paper muffin liner is probably compostable. Someone back me up on this.
+ Some fantastic cities will let you recycle a lot of the plastic abominations that exist. Alas St. Paul is pretty strict and limited with its recycling program (take my damn yogurt container, 651!).
+ I could make the muffin myself, without the liner, in my own muffin tin…
– That would require buying pumpkin, in a can, and a bunch of other packaged goods. And baking.
Realistically, I think it's impossible to go waste-free. BUT I could make a valiant effort to get compost-crazy, recycle-city, and super-conscious about buying/using/reusing.
For instance, Danne at 12 Months of Lent went waste-little in 2009 and lists some great resources on trying it yourself. (Even if you're not of the Catholic sort, her blog is pretty cool. She challenges herself to try something new for 30 days [from eating locally to wearing 6 pieces of clothes to feeding the homeless] and tells you all about it.) Plus, there's a bunch of other hippies out there who post their trash diaries online. I'll soon be one of them. Yay!
Since I'm one of those people who can't remember to bring their reusable grocery totes in from the car, I think this might finally give Al Gore a reason to like me.
One year ago: A Truly Glorious Food, timely since the subject matter is currently waiting to be cooked into a "hashbrown" casserole.
*UPDATE: Clearly, I'm back on coffee, but only one petite normal-brewed cup a day instead of the ye olde four-cup cold-brewed [that's double-strength, people] thing. ILOVECOFFEE!
I'm getting dumber. It's a fact. I use my computer and my smart phone too much, so my handwriting is deteriorating along with my spelling ability. I spend a lot of time talking to people with a very limited vocabulary (because they're under the age of 5).
I decided to compile a list of "CLASSIC BOOKS!!!" (use your moviefone voice). Like those ones that I never read in middle school and high school that I was probably supposed to.
I wore pants for the sole reason of having a nice anchor for the safety pin. (Many days I like donning a skirt because it's just like wearing a big blanket.)
For some reason, I ended up doing the chevron thing, which I needed a little refresher on.
And I thought I was going to have the most modern, color-blocked, awesome bracelet, but then I realized I had 24 pieces of thread. That might be ridiculous.
I halved my recipe and started up.
I always hated how the first rows are all gathered and ruffled, but loved how everything got very orderly and repititious after 5 or 6 rows.
That first inch and a half or so went well, then I got all un-ambidextrous and my knots went wonky. So, now, right now, I'm picking at these tiny knots with my safety pin so I can redo a couple rows and maybe finish this bad boy before the week is over.
Next time? Monochrome, 4 strand beginner level bracelet, yo.
wears friendship bracelets, is embarrassed I'm telling you
I stream shows I like from Netflix (thanks, Nicey-Nice Lady!) and [gasp] occasionally stream new episodes illegally.
I generally do not read or listen to the news, see commercials, or watch movie previews.
My conversations are… interesting because of this.
Not having a t.v. has made my frame of pop culture references very small.
On opening weekend of Magic Mike (of course I knew about Magic Mike, it's MAGIC MIKE), it was also the opening weekend for a movie called Ted. My friends were discussing the plot of the movie and I thought they were kidding.
The only way I hear any world news is, sadly, if it's mentioned on The Facebooks.
On one hand, have you seen the news? It's depressing. Just fires and murders and riots and war and then a story of a water-skiing squirrel to round it out. Thanks for the balance, newsfolks!
On the other hand, maybe I should be more up in arms about fracking and political climate and other things that raise your blood pressure.
More importantly…
What if I miss an awesome movie because no one I know saw it?!
And I miss TMZ. When I do see it, I don't know who they're being snarky about anymore. [lé sigh]
– going to bore your eyes out with a picture-less post. I don't have my USB cable FOR SOME REASON [cough, cough].
– hospitality from, like, everybody. Sometimes I'm just in awe because people are so nice to our family and I'm all, like, suspicious, "Why do you like us?" Is it that we encounter a lot of people who are trying to catch up on some good karma after a rough weekend? I don't know, but people are Cool.
– that's not coffee. Upon visiting a Starbucks this week (drinking decaf!) and watching patrons come and go, very few people actually drink coffee. So much whipped cream walking out the door.
– not sucking at ballrooming. We hit up the Cleveland Dancesport Challenge and rocked it, all while hanging with our fun competition. Seriously, the Smooth division right now is ridiculously talented and nice. We're all gunning for each other on the floor, then clinky-clinky with the drinkys 30 minutes later. Good times.
– the coolest M&Ms ever. Oo! And a picture!
that's my gramma's FACE
– a 90th birthday for my gramma at the Broadway Bar. Because nothing says "Happy Birthday" to a 90-year-old like greasy pizza, beer, and trains. Gramma, that was the coolest.
– V asks "How old is Gramma going to be on her birthday?"
Me: She'll be ninety years old.
V: Oooo, that's a lot of money.
Didn't you think she would say "years" instead of "money"? Kids.
What's up with your guys? Are you carving pumpkins and wearing boots? Or in denials and in flippity-flops?
I stream shows I like from Netflix (thanks, Nicey-Nice Lady!) and [gasp] occasionally stream new episodes illegally.
I generally do not read or listen to the news, see commercials, or watch movie previews.
My life is better because of this.
The products I buy are either the cheapest or recommended by friends or heavily researched on the afore-mentioned interwebs.
The shows and movies I watch are recommended by friends (my family has horrible taste in movies; ex. The Proposal) or involve actors/directors I enjoy.
Political ads hold no sway and I can research candidates with one less bias.
My kids cannot plop down in front of the tube and watch anything they want. I get to handpick shows for them to view (My Little Pony, bitches!) (yes, yes, and Sesame Street, too).
I'm not saying we read 10 books a day by candlelight (if children's board books don't count) or sew all our own clothes from flour sacks or spin pottery to eat granola out of.
I just like that the commercial world doesn't hold as much power over me as it used to.
who's got two thumbs and isn't walking [right now]?
Riot and Frolic 